I’ve spent the last couple of days deep-cleaning my apartment and the nights curled up with old movies. Tuesday was spent sending out résumés and scouring more job boards. I have an interview next week with a bank, but until I have an actual offer in hand, I’m going to keep applying. My savings will carry me for another couple months.
That, and I need the distraction. The focus of work so I can stop thinking about Aiden so much.
My hand goes to the chain around my neck. I gently tug and pulled the engagement ring free from the bodice of my halter top. It arrived by courier yesterday, along with a note.
“It was meant for you.”
After a solid ten minutes of crying, I shut it away for a day inside my desk drawer. Just looking at it reminds me of Aiden in the dressing room of the store, his hand wrapped around mine as he slid it onto my finger.
But after a day of cleaning and a night of watching Anthony Andrews risk his life to save his estranged wife inThe Scarlet Pimpernel, I woke up craving something, anything that would let me feel closer to Aiden. A man who, like the hero of one of my favorite movies, concealed his true self from the world even as he does what he can to make his portion of it better.
I found a necklace I’d purchased in college, a long silver chain with a small pendant, and swapped it out for the ring. One day I’ll stop wearing it. One day the grief will be more of a companion than a cloud shadowing almost every aspect of my life.
I rub my thumb over the emerald. Release a shuddering breath. I miss him. I miss him like I’ve never missed anyone. It feels like my heart is missing a piece I’ll never get back. I have to remind myself daily I’m whole, enough, without him in my life.
But God, it doesn’t feel like it right now.
“Ready?”
I whirl around. Jessica’s standing behind me, a smile on her face. She looks stunning in a long red gown that, rather than contrast with her own vivid red hair, makes it shine.
I tilt my head to one side. There’s something off, though. A tension shimmering around her, faint lines by her eyes.
“I am. You all right?”
She waves a hand. “Just nerves. It’s a big night for Cirque Obsidian. Way bigger than I expected.”
“Fair. But what an accomplishment.”
“Right?” She reaches out and grabs my hand. “I can’t thank you enough for making sure Obsidian got some press. We wouldn’t be performing here tonight without it.”
At least something good came from all of this. I pull the necklace off and tuck it inside a pocket inside the nude shorts underneath my skirt. Breathe out before I walk to the door. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
“You’re going to do great.”
Jessica pulls me into a hug. I hesitate, then hug her back. She’s the first true friend I’ve made since I put Brett behind bars. A positive to latch on to, lean into over the next few months as I work through my loss.
“Thanks.” I glance down the hall. Techno music blasts. The silk performers. “I sound like I’m five asking this, but are my parents here?”
“Front row.”
“Okay.” I smile as I squeeze her hand. “I’m crazy nervous, but I’m excited.”
“Would it make me sound like a patronizing big sister if I tell you how proud I am of you?”
God, I can’t cry now. Not with eye shadow and liner and mascara on.
“No, it doesn’t make you sound patronizing.” I look up at the ceiling several stories above, blink rapidly and swallow past the lump in my throat. “Now stop talking before I walk out looking like I’m ready for Halloween.”
We walk out of the dressing area and down a curtained-off hallway that leads to the stage. Jessica hands me my staff. When the silk performers’ song concludes, she walks out. She asked if I wanted to dedicate my performance to anyone. It took me a day to think on it, to work up the courage to say what was on my heart.
“Our next performer has dedicated her dance to someone who made a big impact on her life. Who lifted her up and made her realize you can love again.”
The crowd erupts into applause. The lights dim. I walk out onto the stage and take my place. The music starts, soft drops of melody that wash over me. Golden lighting fills the stage as I begin my dance. Gentle vocals fill the museum. I melt into the familiar tune, ease into my routine as I reach out to the darkened audience, let my heartache show on my face as I pull back, curl into my chest and slowly slide to the floor.
I think of Aiden as I arch up, each movement echoing the pain of getting back up after loss. The strains of violins pitch up as I cross to the candelabra flickering on the edge of the stage. I dip one end of the staff into the flames, then the other end.
The chorus bursts in with a swell of violins and cellos. The techno beats pulse inside me, mimicking my heartbeat as I roll the staff down my back, catch it and toss it into the air. The thrill of being in love, of realizing how much Aiden saw me and didn’t pull away. He built me up, empowered me. In his own way, he cared for me.
